


Qiilaan

by traditionalfire



Series: Miraak/Arya the Dragonborn [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dovahzul, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Gratuitous Smut, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 14:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11625030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traditionalfire/pseuds/traditionalfire
Summary: He knows his place, and it's beneath her.





	Qiilaan

**Author's Note:**

> (Inadvertently) prompted by an anon on Tumblr who said: "More on the Miraak front: He is a cuddler. Ear whisperer and nibbler.. Sleeps half-naked to full nudity unless he feels cold - rarely because of his Atmoran/Nord blood. And as for the whole dom/sub thing, Miraak seems to be always in a dom role due to his personality. But in the same caveat, he will relinquish said role if his partner imitates the coitus session. Hell, he may even edge his partner on during foreplay to be less submissive. Especially if it ends up with his face getting grinded on"

She’s close, _so_ close, just a few more moments and then…

But suddenly that wonderful lapping pressure is gone, and the precipice she teetered on is just out of reach. Instead, he lavishes wet kisses on her mound, tongues absently at her thighs, nuzzles his face against her belly.

She knows this game. Part of her is unspeakably frustrated, but a greater part, a part that is undeniably _dovah_ , thrills at the promise of what’s to come.

“Please, _dii yolos_…” she pleads, with all the sweet yearning she knows he desires. He glances up from his kneeling position before her, a wicked glint in his eyes, and his grip tightens ever so slightly on her outer thighs.

“Mmm,” is all he rumbles in response, before returning to the task at hand. Slowly. Methodically. His tongue traces lazy shapes along her flesh, so slowly she might wonder if he was half-asleep if this wasn’t a well-worn scheme by now.

“Please…” she calls again, lifting her hips towards him as much as she can from the edge of the bed, but his grip only tightens more; his pace only grows slower. “Miraak, I _need_ …”

There’s no time to finish her thought before his tongue dips inside her, once, twice, and then he’s lapping at her clit again as though he’d never diverted. She moans freely, wantonly — she must fulfill her side of the bargain, after all, and it takes no exaggeration to express such immodest joy.

Up, up, up, she climbs. That great distant peak is close once more, her pleasured cries reaching just as high as he fervently sucks and licks at just the right spot, just the right speed, again and again…

But he abruptly stops. As her deafening heartbeat calms and the tightly coiled tension in her belly dissipates, she knows he’s smiling against her, even as he gently kisses at the patch of dark hair just north of where he _should_ be devoting himself.

“So patient, my beauty,” he muses, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Such a good, sweet girl,” he says, as he presses his nose to that patch of hair and inhales deeply. “My indulgent little _dovah_ ,” he purrs, staring up into her eyes with a look that dares her to challenge him as he pointedly flicks her clit with the tip of his tongue. Perhaps she could allow him to continue just a bit longer, but surely he will forgive her for taking his bait prematurely. After all, he isn’t playing fair, either.

With a growl of frustration she grasps his hair, pulling him away and knocking him backwards before he can muster much more than a peeved grunt. She’s up in an instant, and whatever attempt at chiding he plans to make is silenced by her hand pressing to his mouth, forcing his head back until it meets the soft furs below. Then she’s moving up his body, all grace and heat, her thighs now positioned on either side of his head. She can see it in his expression when she gazes down at him - she’s a conquerer, she’s a queen ( _his_ queen, his and his alone), and he her throne.

They both groan deeply when she settles in, letting her slick cunt rest on his eager lips while his hands move to grope the curve of her ass. Now there is no hesitation, no need to tease her. He gives her his all, meeting every jerk of her hips with his own loving tribute, sucking and licking and lifting her ever higher. She grips his hair to the point of pain, cries of desperate relief pouring from her lips as she nears that coveted peak. He is just as lost in ecstasy as she is, his agonizingly hard cock already leaking a generous pool of pre-cum onto his belly as she reaches one hand back to stroke him clumsily.

Her climax is loud and messy, no thought given to how she grinds herself down onto his mouth throughout. When she comes to her senses, he is staring up at her in heavy-lidded awe, tongue still moving gently against her. So dutiful, even as their little charade comes to an end.

“ _Dii mid aar_,” she croons, and he hums contentedly.


End file.
